Saturday, May 28, 2016

Awakened by a Demoness, the tenth book in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot paranormal romance series, Eternal Mates, is now available in ebook and paperback. To celebrate the release of this awesome milestone in the series, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY and sharing sneak peeks of the book.

Asteria of the Second Legion of demons has messed up. Royally. With a capital everything. Certain that her dark lord is about to end her in the most painful way imaginable, she’s stunned when the fallen angel offers her an uncharacteristic shot at redemption—and determined not to fail him again. With her life on the line, she sets out on a mission that sounds easy but proves to be far from it when a hot slice of angelic eye candy comes storming into her life, stirring dangerous desires and tempting her more than any male before him.

Fifth Commander of the Echelon, the highest order of angels in Heaven and those responsible for hunting demons, he will allow nothing to stand in the way of fulfilling the mission he began close to a century ago so he can finally return to his home. On the verge of securing the half-breed he has been hunting, he can almost taste victory—until a sassy demoness struts into his life, awakening wicked needs and forbidden hungers that will test him to his limit.

When their mission brings them on a collision course, can they fight the fierce heat of the passion that blazes between them to claim a victory for their side or will it burn their resistance to ashes and set their hearts on fire with a love both forbidden and eternal?

Asteria held her shit together as she approached the monolithic black citadel, her boots loud on the polished obsidian flagstones of its central circular courtyard. She tipped her chin up, clenched her fists at her sides to stop them from shaking, and strode towards her doom with the same resolve as she had managed to cling to during her trek through the previous six circular courtyards that surrounded the citadel like concentric rings.
She was fairly certain that these were the last few moments of her life and it was about to come to a grisly close.
It had taken her days of grovelling to her superiors, issuing profuse apologies unbecoming of a demon and having to bite her tongue when her temper had flared, but she had secured a meeting with her dark lord. She had been elated when the leader of her legion had informed her that their master was willing to speak with her, but as the hours had trickled past, that elation had turned to full blown fear.
She had failed in a very important mission, the sort no amount of grovelling could actually correct, so she wasn’t sure why she had thought this was going to end well.
The meeting a ridiculous part of her had believed was going to somehow redeem her was probably in fact a meeting in which she was going to discover her punishment.
Would it be a swim in the lava pit while the Devil watched her burn, or something far worse?
She wouldn’t be the first demoness, or demon, to be sentenced to spend time in his bed.
It wasn’t an honour.
It was a death sentence.
She hadn’t heard of anyone surviving the torture of being his bedfellow, mostly because those he didn’t eventually kill during the act were tossed into the lava pit when he was done with them.
Several low-ranking young demons scurried past her, dressed in black jackets and trousers, their feet bare and bloodied. The black sacks they carried over their shoulders dripped crimson, smelling of entrails.
Asteria swallowed hard and it was damned difficult to hold her nerve as she watched the clean up team carting away whatever poor bastard had just finished meeting with the Prince of Darkness.
An unfortunate lover?
She had heard the stories from those who served in his dark citadel, the young souls assigned to mopping up the mess after a lover had done or said something to flip his switch. Rumour had it that he went through at least two mattresses a week, and demanded a fresh, brand new set of sheets every few hours. His appetite for fucking was as insatiable as his appetite for destruction and death, and unfortunately that meant the two often coincided.
She sucked down a deep breath as she reached the grand arched entrance of the towering castle and looked up its height, taking in the jagged towers that rose into the dark grey sky of Hell. Light from the bubbling pits of lava beyond the walls of the central courtyard and the braziers that formed a circle, lining those walls, tried to lend warmth to the matt black stone of the fortress but only managed to make it look more sinister by casting shadows in the recesses.
The four huge demon males guarding the entrance eyed her, their elliptical pupils stretched thin in the centre of their black irises and burning gold. Elite. They were kept in a permanent state of rage in order to maintain their appearance, keeping them looking as dangerous and deadly as her kind could be.
She had such a dark side herself, but unleashing it right now would be a big mistake. Huge. Her dark lord didn’t appreciate those below him showing up on his doorstep looking ready for war.
It was the reason she had chosen her lighter black armour, the red-edged metal plates fitting more closely to her legs and hips, and across her chest, and had forgone wearing the gauntlets that normally encased her forearms and hands. She had also brushed her long black hair, tamed the gold-to-red streak that ran down the front right side, and had taken her time in front of the mirror in her hut, applying black around her blue eyes and painting her lips crimson.
She had even taken the time to preen her black leathery wings, buffing the membranes with wax until they shone, and had done the same with the small obsidian horns that curled from behind the pointed tips of her ears, following the curve down to end in a point near the lobes.
She eyed the four ripped bare-chested demon males guarding the entrance again, envied the bastards a little as she gazed at their horns. Males had bigger ones, the sort that twisted around to form deadly daggers beside their temples when they were enraged.
Asteria sighed, wishing she had such horns.
One of her friends had told her once that she had horn envy. She had denied it at the time, but it was true. Whenever she found herself banging a demon, she couldn’t keep her hands off their horns. She had even tried to rip one out of a male once. He had thought she was merely being rough and had enjoyed it. The damn thing had been rooted too deeply though and she had sort of forgotten about trying to break it off when he had begun thrusting harder between her legs, turning her brain to mush.
One of the male’s gazes slid her way and he raked an approving look over her. His black horns flared a little further, revealing his desire and interest to her.
She flicked her onyx hair over her shoulder, shot him a wink, and kept walking, a little swing to her hips with each step now as she silently flirted with the brute. She looked him up and down just as she passed him, bit her lip at the sight of so much hard muscle, and swore that if she survived the next few minutes she would be back to take him up on his offer.
Which would be a miracle, and those didn’t happen in Hell.
Still, he was a nice distraction as she ogled his arse over her shoulder, one that kept her thoughts away from her imminent death until someone approached her.
“Asteria of the Second Legion?” a demoness said, a wobble in her throaty voice.
She nodded and looked at her, and quickly masked the fear that bolted through her when she found herself face to face with a young female dressed in little more than a scrap of crimson around her hips and breasts, a thick black metal collar that was tight against her throat, and a lot of bruises.
By the Devil, was this the future she was doomed to endure staring right back at her with bleak bloodshot eyes and a startling lack of horns.
Someone had cut them off. Asteria tried not to gawp at them but she couldn’t stop herself, and her stomach plummeted when she realised they hadn’t been shorn.
They had been broken.
The black stumps that remained were brutally fractured.
The female’s hands twitched at her sides, as if with an urge to touch the horns Asteria stared at, so she dragged her eyes away, feeling bad that she had upset the young demoness.
Demons tried their best to be the toughest, most badass creatures in Hell, but when it boiled down to it, they had feelings too, and this female had been through the mill.
Probably at the hands of the one creature in Hell who didn’t possess a single jot of emotion.
The fallen angel she was about to meet.
The young demoness bowed her head and led the way, and Asteria tried to busy herself with taking in all the details of the palace her dark master called home in an attempt to stop herself from preening her horns, reassuring herself they were still perfect. Still there. On the outside, it matched his image perfectly, but on the inside… it was quite the opposite.
Oh, it was sumptuous and decadent, but it wasn’t exactly goth-chic as she had expected.
The black of the outside world gave way to white marble floors that were so highly polished she could see herself in them. They reflected the light from the crystal chandeliers, and that same light shone off the gold filigree that decorated the dark wooden ceiling. The walls were smooth and, of all things, papered. The vestibule and hallway that led off it had crimson wallpaper with black almost fleur-de-lys patterns on it. She had been in some expensive homes in the mortal world and the Devil had decorated his in that same style, but with a more sinister edge that she would have attributed more to a vampire than a fallen angel.
Her escort stopped at a set of arched wooden double doors and bowed.
Asteria guessed this was it. The bloody end to her somewhat not glorious career as a demon. She was a damned idiot for failing to capture the people who had slaughtered Barafnir but how the hell was she meant to have known the demon arsehole had been one of the Devil’s favourites?
She reached for the solid gold knob on one door, pulled down another breath to steel herself, and took hold of it. It was warm to the touch. Nothing like the cold bastard waiting on the other side. She could feel him there, his power vibrating through her, calling to her.
She closed her eyes, twisted the knob and pushed the door open just as she lifted her chin and fixed her gaze straight ahead.
It landed on a male lounging in a huge black throne in the centre of an enormous blue-walled room, wearing only gold-edged obsidian armour on his lower half.
Heaven be damned, because it had made him breathtaking.
She knew he was a brute, seven feet tall and dark and deadly, but he was a beautiful bastard, and he knew it as he sat there on his throne, black hair falling around his broad shoulders and chiselled torso on show.
The air in the expansive open room vibrated with his power, making her blood hum and skin tingle.
His red eyes held hers, a bored edge to his handsome face, and he lazily lifted his right hand from the arm of his throne and crooked a clawed finger, beckoning her.
Asteria’s palms sweated. She should have dressed a little sexier, taken more time about her appearance. It ran through her gaining volume on each pass as she sauntered towards him, feeling his heat rolling over her, power curling around her, drowning out the part of her that had feared him and replacing it with something altogether more terrifying.
Desire.
The corner of his profane mouth twitched into a smirk.
He knew he was affecting her, and while his mouth said that pleased him, the way his eyes darkened said it didn’t.
She straightened her spine, crushed her unruly feelings and boxed them away, and held her head high as she marched towards him, all business. Not weak. Not affected by just his damned gorgeous presence.
Her step faltered when she noticed a smouldering bloody stain on the white marble floor.
His last appointment?
By the Devil, she was going to die in the next few seconds, or worse, at a later date after he was done with her.
When she was within a few metres, he lowered his right leg from his left knee and set his foot on the floor. His hands came down over the edges of the arms of his black throne, curling around to press sharp black claws into the stone and causing his biceps to bulge.
Behind him, a sheer black curtain did a poor job of concealing the other half of the room and she tried not to look there but her eyes were drawn to the hazy glow of candles on the other side, her focus snagged by the low moans coming from that direction.
That heat curled around her again, pushed at her will but she pushed back, refusing to fall prey to it and the Devil’s dark allure. She wasn’t about to become like those females on the other side of the curtain who were probably writhing around on his bed, waiting impatiently for the male who was staring at her.
“Asteria of the Second Legion.” His deep voice rumbled around the room like thunder, charging the air and sending tremors of pleasure through her, and she had to squeeze her thighs to stop herself from collapsing into a puddle of goo at his feet. Heaven be doubly damned, it had built this male for sin. Thoughts of dirty hard sex popped into her head, illicit images that she did her best to shove away as soon as they burst into existence. “You disappointed me.”
Just like that, the spell over her shattered and cold fear replaced the wicked heat of desire.
This was it.
Her death knell.

Awakened by a Demoness is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find all the links, a fantastic 4 chapter downloadable sample of the book, and also enter the giveaway and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/awakened-by-a-demoness-paranormal-romance-book.phpBooks in the Eternal Mates paranormal romance series:

About Felicity Heaton
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Eternal Mates series.
If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:

He parties like a rockstar. She’s there to make sure no one finds out…

Jess James has her eye on the prize. She is finding the money to pay for law school. Period. She is starting a new life on her own. Period. And she’s absolutely staying in Los Angeles, three thousand miles away from the people who expect her to lie for them. It doesn’t matter how lonely she gets on her own, how exhausted she is from working overtime as a cocktail waitress, or how deep the knife wound in her back cuts. She is going to be a lawyer, whatever it takes.

Only she doesn’t have what it takes. She can barely afford to pay her rent.

Sinful Serenade bassist Pete Steele has enough to pay Jess’s rent and buy her a small island in the Caribbean. The famous, talented rock star has everything… except the one thing his manager wants. Pete rose to fame as a devoted boyfriend. Doesn’t matter that his ex slept with his best friend, he needs to stop screwing his way through Los Angeles to keep his reputation clean. Pete works hard, and parties harder… and the sweet, blond waitress is exactly the girl he needs on his arm if he wants to keep the record company happy.

Their arrangement is simple: he pays her tuition, she plays his girlfriend. They’ll lie to the world, but not to each other. Especially not when they’re alone, in his bed, him figuring out exactly which buttons to push to get her moaning his name.

Jess is good at keeping up appearances. She can play the enigmatic rock star’s girlfriend. But Pete shouldn’t play games with a girl who’s been broken before…

My eyes find Pete’s. There’s an earnestness to his expression. I feel like I can trust him. Like I can talk to him.
That might be worth lying to everyone else.
His hand slides under my skirt. My thoughts fade away. My shoulders and back relax. I want to feel the way I did at the park, like there’s nothing in the world but the two of us.
Sex first. Decision second.
I lean in to whisper. “Do we have to stay to talk?”
“Have to clear something with Aiden but I can do it after.”
Mmm. After. I nod. “Yes please.”
“Yes please, what?”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “Yes, please… will you… Do I have to say it?”
He chuckles. “I’ll get you there.”
His fingertips skim my thighs as he pulls his hand back to his lap. He pulls back enough he can stare into my eyes. I still can’t figure out what the expression in his deep brown eyes means, but damn if I don’t like staring into them.
They’re gorgeous eyes.
That vulnerability returns. He blinks and it’s gone. I shift backwards, breaking his touch. But it’s too loud to think.
Pete stands and pulls me to my feet. He nods goodbye to his friends then leads me to the back of the VIP area. There’s a roped off area with a NO ENTRANCE sign. He scans the room. A cocktail waitress has her eyes on us. More likely, she has her eyes on him. She licks her lips hungrily.
He could easily take her home. But he looks at her with apathy. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want any of the gorgeous models in this place.
He wants me.
Pete leans in to whisper. “Wait for me on the balcony. I’ll lose her.” He motions to the closed door in the corner of the roped off area.
He wants to do this on a balcony? Damn. First the bar bathroom then this. He has a thing for public sex.
I should say no. I’m going to be a lawyer. I can’t get caught having sex in public.
I try to force the word to my lips but it refuses. “What if we get caught?”
“This is private property. They’ll ask to leave. That will be it.” His eyes meet mine. “We can hold off till we get back to your place.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to hold off. I want him. Now.
I trust his assessment of the situation.
“No. Let’s do now,” I say.
He nods.
I wait for him to grab the waitress’s attention and I sneak past the velvet rope. The door to the balcony is frosted glass. You can’t see in or out. I turn the handle and check my footing. All good.
We’re overlooking the alley. No one can see us, not from the street, not from the club.
No one is going to catch us. Not on camera—it’s too dark for that.
Thoughts swirl around my brain. I like Pete. Find him interesting. Hell, find him fascinating.
Can I play his girlfriend without falling in love with him?
I press my hands into the smooth metal railing. It’s the only cold thing here. The sounds of the street—conversations and cars—flow into my ears, competing with the music coming from the club.
There’s only one thing I know: I can’t leave without being with him.
Period.

Author Bio:

Crystal Kaswell writes steamy new adult and erotic romance books. She loves when flawed characters fall head over heels for each other. Especially if they fall into bed first. She loves police procedurals, tea, and The Hunger Games series. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband.

Determined to protect Jackie from
evil, Darach Hamilton flees MacLomain Castle without telling anyone his
destination. As foretold by Celtic Goddess Brigit, that should have made the
enemy pursue him. But nothing is as it seems. When he learns the dark demi-god
went after Jackie instead, he races to her side only to discover something
unexpected. Things have changed. There might be hope for them. Maybe he can
finally be with her. After all, he’s been dreaming about her for years. The only
problem? He already pushed her into another man’s arms.

Over a month has passed since
Jackie traveled back in time from modern day New Hampshire to medieval
Scotland. Since then, it’s been a non-stop adventure. Now she’s in
ninth-century Scandinavia with Heidrek, a Viking set to inherit the throne. A
man that Darach is determined she be with despite the unforgettable kiss they
shared. Then there’s the newfound Claddagh ring on her finger. It is foretold
that its stone can only be ignited by the love of a MacLomain. Darach is by
birth, the only remaining MacLomain not taken. Yet despite the power the ring’s
glow could harness, she wants nothing to do with it. Not in light of her
terrible secret. One she prays will keep any man from loving her because it will
mean their ultimate ruin.

Many revelations come to light
when Jackie, Darach, and Heidrek travel through time to keep the future King,
wee Robert the Bruce safe. Determined to spare them heartbreak, Jackie refuses
both men. Yet one of them ends up invoking unavoidable passion. A timeless
draw. One she tries to fight. But some things are meant to be and Fate has a
plan for them all. Epic love. Ultimate war. Inescapable death. Twists nobody
saw coming. An ending that will either see Scotland through to what it is today
or rewrite history altogether.

Find
out how everything unfolds in Passion of a Scottish Warrior, the final
installment in the MacLomain Series: Later Years.

Jackie shook her
head as she looked into Darach’s eyes. Being in his arms was the last place she
needed to be. Yet the crowd pushed them closer and the man she had been dancing
with vanished. She swallowed hard when his arm wrapped around her waist and
twirled her away from a couple that stumbled by them laughing.

The
pipes trilled.

The crowd was
wild.

And she was
tight against Darach.

Not a good place
to be. Or was it? She swallowed again and kept her arms down because if she
lifted them, what would she touch? The sides of his muscled torso…his strong
forearms…his wide shoulders?

When he trailed
off, she realized that he had no idea what he would or would not do. Besides
the arm that he wrapped around her waist, his other hand didn’t touch her at
all.

His head was
bent near hers, his lips so close to her ear that she could feel his hot breath
down the side of her neck. Chills and heat raced over her simultaneously as she
tried to sift through her feelings.

Push away. Touch
his chest and push away.

But again, if
she touched him…what then? Would pulling away still be an option?

The pipes seemed
to trill louder, and the fire in the center of the room sparked higher as the
celebrations became a boisterous background to the quiet she suddenly felt on
the inside. A strange silence made up of her heartbeat and the indentation
where his neck met his collarbone. She inhaled deeply and turned her face
inward, chasing his scent and heat.

She barely felt
the slight touch of his hand on the back of her head as she nuzzled in,
desperate to get closer to…something. It almost felt like a memory. One just
out of reach. Lips open, she flicked her tongue, eager to sample. Eager to
capture his scent. Curious what it tasted like.

Only when he
whispered, “Bloody hell, lass,” did her eyes snap open and she realized what
she was doing. By that time, it was too late. He tightened his hold, dug his
hand into her hair, tilted back her head and met her eyes. Their lips were
inches apart when he whispered, “What are you doing to me?”

Jackie had no
idea. What was she doing to him? What was he doing to her? She’d never felt
anything like it. So much. Almost too much. Yet it felt like something not
entirely real. As if she recalled snippets of a dream.

Sky Purington is the best-selling
author of over twenty novels and several novellas. A New Englander born and
bred, Sky was raised hearing stories of folklore, myth and legend. When
combined with a love for nature, romance and time-travel, elements from the
stories of her youth found release in her books.

Purington loves to hear from
readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington.com. Interested in keeping up
with Sky's latest news and releases?

Visit Sky's website, http://www.skypurington.com
to download her free App on iTunes and Android or sign up for her quarterly
newsletter. Love social networking? Find Sky on Facebook and Twitter.

They call us the Firework Girls.
I’m Ashley. My music is like a lover, surrounding me. Filling me. Transporting me with its power.
Much like he did … before he broke my heart.
Now he’s back, wanting another duet. Can I play the same old song? Do I even want to?

It’s a little like being in the Twilight Zone. Erik doesn’t belong here at Hartman, with my friend saying his name like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Erik belongs in a grand house by the river in a whole different world.

But there he is, climbing the steps to the stage. Just like that.
My skin crawls and my heart pounds in this sickening way. I sink lower in my chair, but my eyes follow his every move. He looks the same, but different. He’s just as handsome as ever, maybe even more so if that’s possible, but he’s broader in the chest and his hair is a bit longer and he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. He’s wearing black jeans and a casual button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows.
I know those forearms and those hands. I know those long fingers. Down to the last detail, I remember it all.
As he settles himself on the bench and lays out his sheet music, I’m struck by his impossible good looks. Men this handsome aren’t exactly what you’d consider typical fare anywhere, but definitely not among the world of classical pianists. He looks more like a rock star.
Maybe that’s why, in the midst of the shock and pain and (yes) anger at seeing him again, my heart is still fluttering in that maddening way. Still. After all this time. After everything.
Then he begins to play.
Like the rest of him, his music is deeply familiar to me, but it too has changed. It’s more mature. More controlled. In fact, it’s absolutely heartbreaking. That deep, haunting quality to his music is still there, and its ability to render me helpless hasn’t lessened at all.
Oh, how I remember this.
What happened all those years ago has never truly left me, but seeing him and listening to him brings it all back with such freshness, I don’t know whether to cry or laugh or rage. I’m flooded with so many memories, all wrapped up in the sweet torture of his music. I’m too stunned to do more than stare. I can barely breathe.

Author Bio:

J.L. White writes steamy romances featuring smart, sexy women and the swoon-worthy men who adore them. Her sexy love stories are full of passion but don't skimp on the tenderness.
She's addicted to trendy coffee houses, poolside lounging, and HEAs. When not tapping blissfully away on her laptop, she takes time to enjoy life with her husband and their children.
Don't miss a new release! Join the JL White mailing list for updates on new books, sales, and other goodies: http://jlwhitebooks.com/get-emails-about-hot-new-releases/
Join the conversation on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JLWhiteAuthor

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Morgan's life isn't hers and as far as her tribe is concerned, it never will be. Love wasn't for her. She served one purpose. Look beautiful and make babies. That was until she ran.

All is well with her new life of solitude until Wyatt comes along. Who told him to come into her hospital bloody and beautiful? Never had a human been so irresistible.

Arrogant, rugged, gorgeous Detective Wyatt threatens her new existence without pity. He's used to getting what he wants from women and he doesn't expect her to be any different. He isn't used to playing by anyone else's rules including Morgan's.

How wrong was he? She was dangerous to him. Being with her was suicide. Once word made it back to the tribe, they'd both be killed.

The skies darkened as the storm descended. Leland had run to check on our elderly neighbors for the last time before we sheltered in place. I watched him enter their house through one rain smeared window and kept a lookout for her in another. It was our chance to run. Mom and I had been planning for this and we had been perfecting our getaway ever since hurricane Katrina had put fear into the hearts of everyone along the eastern coastline. We weren’t even sure we would survive the swim, but we had to try.

Anxiety rippled through me as the rains fell angrily on our little island and the winds bent the palm trees nearly to the ground. I watched, making sure he was still with the neighbors as I waited for her call. Then I heard it. Mom yelped from the pier. I jumped up and peeked out the kitchen window. Leland was still preoccupied. I made a run for the front door buck naked. I had to get to the pier. I had to get to Mom. I was almost there when he saw me.

He yelled my name from the neighbors’ doorway. “Morgan!”

I refused to turn back.

Mom called my name louder. “Morgan!”

I was almost to her, almost to the pier. He was gaining on me. His feet grew louder as he came closer. My feet were louder, more urgent. I couldn’t figure out which hurt more, the stone rain pelting my bare skin or my bare feet hitting the wooden planks of the pier as I bolted for the rough dark waters. Then I felt his fingertips slide roughly from my shoulders down my back. I ran faster. He’d missed me, but not by far. He kept at it until my drenched, waist-length hair was within reach. “Gotcha!” He yanked me to the ground and started dragging me back toward our house. He didn’t say another word. He was used to me running, but this time was different.

I wasn’t going back. I yelped for Mom, kicking and screaming as I grasped at his hands, claws drawn. She came to my defense, jumping on his back and digging her claws deep into his flesh. He grunted and bucked, trying to shake her, but she stayed embedded in him until her poison seeped in and subdued him. He involuntarily released his grip on my hair as his body crashed to the soaked wooden planks.

She frantically helped me to my feet, almost falling in her efforts. My bloodied side didn’t slow us. We ran until the pier ended and dove headfirst into the angry ocean. Facing possible death was better than the existence we had there; Mom and I were sure. We took true form together, allowing the sea to fill our gills and heal my wounds. We swam wildly away from our hell side by side that night. We’d be hunted for this. It didn’t matter; there was no looking back.

About the Author

Paullina has been writing and reading since she learned how. She is a volunteer literacy tutor for adult learners and believes knowing how to read can take you anywhere and everywhere you want to go. She enjoys writing romance with steamy scenes as that is what she enjoys reading.

You'll seldom find her without pen and paper as she prefers written words over typed any day. She was born and raised in Maryland about a mile away from Washington, D.C. and loves it. Other than writing and reading, her two children are the loves of her life and occupy her days while writing and reading occupy her nights. She loves good food and funny movies and hopes you enjoy reading her stories as much as she enjoyed writing them.

The Men of Machismo series
revolves around nine friends who worked together in a male revue. Each book
follows the life of a different former dancer seven years later. The Bad Decision
Legacy is Will and Tonya’s story.

Tonya’s psychotic ex is stalking
her. Not the best time to meet men, still her best friend begs her to show up
for blind date dinner. Her plan includes the meet and greet, then heading home.
Of course, she never expected a man who sent every hormone in her body into
high alert. Will looked like her next bad decision.

Will’s work as a divorce lawyer
included discouraging embittered women from ramming their soon to be exes with
the car or setting fire to their husband’s latest girlfriend. No wonder he fell
hard for Tonya. The first woman he met with no agenda, well almost none. It’s
obvious Tonya is knee deep in trouble, but refuses to ask for help. Instead of
running the other way, he contemplates dashing into the tornado she refers to
as her life. With any luck, he might survive.

Lynne
merely lifted an eyebrow as she opened the front door. Her friend waited for
them both to pass, before speaking.

Their
hostess babbled as entered. “Ah, well, we got the awkward introductions out of
the way. I forgot to mention to Tonya that Marc invited you. I forgot until you
arrived.” Lynne managed to deliver the words with a straight face, but winked in Tonya’s direction.

Tonya
sucked in her lips, controlling her laughter. Unfortunately, her friend would
never be a great actress. Her words sounded as stiff as any business owner who
attempted to make his own cut-rate commercial.

Tonya
excused herself by pointing in the direction of the bathroom, not trusting
herself to resist laughing. Lynne acknowledged her signal while guiding Will to
the family room, where mellow jazz music and glassware tinkling emanated. Marc
must already be making his special martinis. The memory of various drinks in
brilliant colors, with exotic names, made her regret her detour to the
bathroom. After shutting the door with a little more energy than needed, she
turned on the faucet full blast, covering her laughter.

Seriously,
did Lynne think she was fooling anyone? Did Will think she showed up on her
own, with no hint a single man might be the lure? A quick glance in the mirror
revealed a flushed face. It was hard to tell if it was from laughing or playing
her part in this farce. Dampening a washcloth, she patted her face. Thank
goodness, she hadn’t bothered with full makeup. Her goal was to look like she
hadn’t expected to encounter an eligible male. Well, she accomplished that all
right with her ponytail and jeans.

Nothing she could do about it now. She stuck
her tongue out at her mirrored image. Her goal was not to encourage the man, but to score a free meal. A small sigh
escaped as she turned the doorknob. Remembering the spark that zipped up her
arm when he touched her hand, the man had potential. Try not to think about it. The last thing she needed was the
emotional roller coaster that came with dating. She never managed to exit the
horror ride called Clint. It was still going, whether she wanted to be on it or
not. That would be a hard thing to explain in a budding relationship.

God, listen to me. Budding
relationship. Get a grip, chick. Michelle pointed out the man must be a mess if his own fiancée abandoned him to become
a man. Will would be smart to avoid me,
because I’m a train wreck in the making, with a full-time
stalker and the possibility of unemployment in the near future.

Morgan K Wyatt writes steamy
romances with a side of laughter under the name of Morgan Kay. The wisecracking
heroines and hunky heroes are similar to the ones in her mainstream novels, but
in the Steamy Interludes series, the bedroom door is left open. Real life issues, humor, dogs are also
staples in Morgan Kay romances.

An unexpected kiss starts a chain
of events that will change his life…

Malachi Keen’s frustration grows
as he hunts for his sister, Kiara. The search leads him to more trouble than
just an irritating sibling when he finds himself in the embrace of a
tantalizing stranger. What turns out to be a chance encounter will change his
life forever.

Jez Baldovino owes a life debt to
an influential Wolven. To pay up, she must complete what she thought would be a
simple task – retrieve some stolen data. The situation quickly becomes
complicated and she is forced to use a handsome, unsuspecting stranger.

Malachi realizes that not
everything is what it seems; unknown enemies and a beautiful female determined
to escape him was not in his plans for the day. His plans change when danger
surrounds Jez. There is only one male that is allowed to hunt the woman who
ambushed him with a kiss – him!

Electra Gajdos is from
Winnemucca, Nevada and currently lives in West Michigan. She is a wife and the
mother of two beautiful genius children. (Maybe not true geniuses, but a mother
is always partial to her kids.) She won’t bore you with her childhood love of
all things sci-fi and the game of chess. But she will let you know she once
called the police to save a man from jumping off a three-story building. What
she didn’t know was the man was a mannequin and part of an advertisement. No
lie! Thankfully, it gave the police officer a good laugh for the night. This is
just one her many good deeds gone wonky, and she looks forward to sharing more
of them with you.